


eucatastrophe // ambiguity

by Kealpos



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, During Canon, M/M, Post-Canon, also: die of blue balls? thanks, and yes i know its bad and the ending is dumb im aware, i just want this out, its one am by the way and ive barely gotten any sleep in the past couple days, ive only watched 1992 btw idk if it shows, regardless, this felt so awkward to write because i dont know how to write them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 22:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14703594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kealpos/pseuds/Kealpos
Summary: The two spat into their hands and shook on it, the newsies erupting into cheers. Then, Davey pulled him close and wrapped him in a hug. “I was so scared I was going to lose you,” he whispered.“Never. Carrying the banner,” Jack replied, squeezing tight.





	eucatastrophe // ambiguity

**Author's Note:**

> this is supposed to be a soulmate au by the way. dont worry if you didn't catch on; i apparently didn't either  
> its the whole name on the wrist thing but i also wanted to play with the whole francis sullivan thing so. the name on the wrist is the last full name your self-considered family called you. evident in santa fe, jack doesnt quite see the newsies as family. it was supposed to show a shift, kinda, but idk

Most of his life, David Jacobs felt a sense of worry over the name on his arm.

'Francis Sullivan'

He hadn't questioned it too much when he was younger, as it was just the name on his arm like everyone else had. Sometimes he noticed strangers seeing the name and staring apprehensively at his mom and dad, but that was it for the first several years of his life.

Once he turned, oh, eight? One of his dad's coworkers came over for dinner. Naturally, he asked about the names (everyone did) and when David presented his name, the co-worker raised his eyebrows, laughed, and said "What kind of show are you running, Jacobs? You raising some kind of sissy?"

For the first time in his short life, David realized maybe this was an improper name if anything by the tone was indicative.

Later that night after the co-worker had left, his parents sat David down and explained they were perfectly fine with homosexuals and as long as David wasn't hurting anyone they would still love him. His head spun wrapping around what they were saying. But he got it in the end.

In a few years time, people were questioning him directly. As to avoid suspicion he mentioned a female friend of his also named Francis, just with a different surname, to prove that Francis was not an impossible name for a lady. People accepted the answer so easily that eventually, even David himself began to wonder about Francis, occasionally. But that was a different dream. He was too busy to visit thoughts of. Her?

Until his father was laid off, and David had to drop out of school. Then, he had a lot of time on his hands.

-

"What do you think you're doing?" An annoyed voice asked, and Jack looked up for half a second. "Runnin'!" He replied before he continued just that.

Jack Kelly jumped and leaped with a hat of one of the Delancy's (he didn't care enough to differentiate them) in his firm grasp. Finally, he made around back once they stopped bothering him and took first in line for his papers.

He purchased his papers like a good little newsboy, inspected thoroughly, and was gonna take off near some shop he saw attracting customers the other day when he spotted the kid from earlier. Well..

Kids. There were two of them. The older one who looked his age, and a little kid, which was just what he needed for business. It did help that something about them intrigued Jack, even if he was not into the whole hoity-toity air the older one seemed to reek of.

Still, when the guy almost got into a fight with Weasel, Jack couldn’t help but take over for him, just like his mother shoulda taught him. The older one tried to refuse his courtesy, handing him back most of the papers Jack had bought him, but the kid was smarter. Or probably just less defensive.

“Cowboy! They call him cowboy!” The little one had said, eyes bright with wonder.  
“Yeah, and lotsa other things, like Jack Kelly. That’s what me mutta called me. Whatta they call you?”  
“Les! And this is my older brother, Davey! He’s older.” Jack grinned down at him.

Davey owed him two bits, so Jack took them under his wing. It took a lot of convincing from both himself, the kid, and the newsies, but the older one finally struck a 60/40 deal with him. Davey was a real laugh though, refusing to shake his spit hand. That was one of the things he noticed about him, but he realized a few other things about him (and one sorta about the kid, Les).

1\. Davey was wearing a tie. Clearly hadn't gotten the memo it wasn't necessary.  
2\. Les was a natural born newsie, even with Davesy over there to the side was holding tight onto his leash.  
3\. Davey was no good at exaggerating the truth, but he was loud.  
4\. Davey had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.  
5\. He felt like he knew a Davey from somewhere, but he obviously didn't share the same sentiment  
6\. Davey hadn't mentioned the name thing once.

The last one was especially peculiar. Asking names was a break the ice conversation starter a "hey i know a ruth they live uptown would you like me to introduce yous to them sometime"  
Yet David hadn't asked a single time. It wasn’t bad, just out of the ordinary.

Jack didn’t like to think about his mark, and he’d had it wrapped up for years, so he barely remembered the name. They’d probably be up in Santa Fe, the place he was looking to end up before winter came round again. He didn’t ask about the mark, because nobody just hid their mark for no good reason, and he wasn’t some snitch.

After a little under two hours, they met up around the boxing match where Les regaled them with the tale of drinking beer when he got spotted by Snyder, that damn Refuge runner. Jack had grabbed Davey by the necktie, Les following quick behind, with Snyder’s shouts of “Sullivan”.

Finally, they headed into a building once they had shaken him off, with Davey a little more than pissed off. “I’m not running any further.” He had said, and aw, Jack couldn’t say no to his pouty face.

Davey was still a stuck-up ass though. He’d have to try and fix him some time. “Oh yeah, food,” he had said, rolling his eyes as he pulled on Les’s shirt.  
“Yeah, food,” Jack replied flatly. He didn’t lie about thievery to another newsie, no matter how prudish; it was against his moral code.  
“He called you Sullivan.” Davey looked a little nervous when he said that, but Jack just stared him down. “Yeah, my name’s Kelly. Jack Kelly. You think I’m lying?”  
“Well, you have a way of improving the truth.”

Jack pursed his lips, and ignored the last line, focusing back on Les. But something in Davey’s suspicious gaze seemed to shift just a little bit, somehow.

-

Honestly, David didn’t trust Jack at all in the beginning. He still barely did, with the lying and the running from the Refuge. But it was a tough world, and the rest of his family seemed to like him. Actually, there wasn’t anything putting him off except for one itsy bitsy teeny tiny thing: Sullivan. Why had the Snyder guy called him that? Jack didn’t answer him right when he asked, and that was a red flag, but…

“Jack, why don't you stay here tonight?”  
He looked over at him from his side of the window/fire escape, frowned just a little, before finishing off with a playful grin.  
“Nah, I gots my own place. But your family's real nice- like mine,” he replied, tacking on the last part somewhat hastily.  
“Alright. See you tomorrow then. Carrying the banner.”  
“Carrying the banner.”

David headed into the apartment and then into the room he shared with Les (after giving his parents good nights) and collapsed on his bed. He was dead tired. He was almost glad Jack headed back to his own home, there wasn’t any room for him to sleep unless he shared with David, and Jack was nice- great, even- but he felt strangely… strange about sharing a bed with him that quick. It wasn’t even him being a newsie or stretching the truth or whatever. Just..  
Sullivan.

David pulled his sleeve up slightly to read the name going down his wrist again. Francis Sullivan. There was more than one Francis and more than one Sullivan. Jack was a Kelly anyways, and Sullivan was just a nickname or a fake name. Something like that.

David put his arm down and frowned up at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to think about it anymore. The dream was done, it's over now. He just had to get to sleep.

Sullivan.

-

“Ain'tcha glad nobody's waiting up for you?” Jack said out loud to himself, rather pathetically, staring off the fire escape.

Jack Kelly was a fake name. His real name was Francis Sullivan and was the last thing his father had called him before they hauled him off to jail for something stupid, like stealing a wristwatch from some lowlife rich man. Jack went into the newspaper selling business just a few weeks later, tired of pawning off of Medda, a friend of his dad’s who had been kind enough to let him bum around.

The whole soulmate thing played a lot with family bonds and the like, putting whatever full name your family had called you last splayed down the wrist of your partner. Whether it was your blood family or a sweat-and-tears forged family, it was the name.

The newsies considered Jack family, or at least several did. Jack wasn’t nearly that stupid, at least in his own mind. His mother, his father, and himself were all he had. And Santa Fe.

Nobody would care if he was dead or alive, gone or there, hungry or starving. As Jack headed back to the lodging house, he thought about his dreams. Just a few more dollars and he was out of New York. Just a few more dollars and he could finally find his life, his family, his soulmate. Being a newsboy was just a temporary fumble.

-

“You mean like a strike?” David had said, mostly as a joke, sorta as a name to the thing Jack was thinking. Unfortunately, Jack seemed to take it in stride.  
“Yeah, like a strike!” He had replied, his eyes lighting up and dancing with ideas. David would’ve found it endearing if he wasn’t suddenly regretting every word that came out of his mouth.

It had been a week or two or two and a half since David (and Les) and Jack had started working together, but when they went in to pick up their papers, the newsies realized that their price to buy them had gone up. That wasn’t fair.

“Jack, I was only joking. We can’t strike. We don’t have a union.” David tried desperately to get Jack to rethink the stupid idea, but it was too late. The cogs were turning in his head by then.  
“But, if we go on strike, then we are a union, right?” Jack replied, and David felt like he was already losing an argument that hadn’t even started. How could he talk Jack Kelly, newsie supreme, rebel, prettiest eyes you’d ever see (what?), out of a stupid ~~good~~ idea?

-

“Oh yeah? Yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?” Spot Colon said, playing it off like it was a joke even though everybody knew it wasn’t some joke.  
“Yeah, it’s a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you’ll listen to what he’s got to say,” Jack replied, staring Spot down, literally. He was a lot shorter than Jack.

Davey looked at Jack and he matched his gaze before ‘walking mouth’ let that mouth of his twist up into a grateful, closed-mouth smile. Jack mirrored it before letting Davey onto Spot like a hungry dog onto a meaty-smelling, fat, unhelpful butcher.

Davey was definitely growing on him, and his family. As much as a quiet, stick in the mud Jack had regarded him at first, he really never knew when to shut up, and he really liked to help cause trouble in the tidepool of New York.

He was proud of Davey. Something about his name still nagged him every day, and he was still a little too defensive, but Jack enjoyed his presence, both as a friend and apparently, a co-strike leader, quite a lot.

-

“You got us on the front page!” David said, grinning excitedly at the newspaper before looking back up at Denton, who had the expression of the cat who just got the cream.  
“You got yourselves on the front page. Now, I just got to make sure you stay there,” the man replied, sitting back in his chair.

This was great. Something about the strike was in the newspapers, and this article was something even the striking newsies would want to pick up soon.  
“You get your face in the papes, yous famous! And when you’re famous, you get anything you want!” Racetrack, a fellow newsie crowed proudly, with several people listing off things they’d want. Even Jack didn’t seem immune to the power of the press.

“Editors desk for the star reporter?” David suggested loudly, and several newsies helped him bring Denton center stage.  
“How about that,” went the only adult in the room, “I’m the king of New York!”

“‘Fore we’re too caught up in this, I think we betta come up with somethin’ to keep us in the papes!” Jack said, jumping up on one of the tables. Several newsies yelled out options, which Jack considered before he lit up and went off about a rally.

“We’ll send a message to the big boys,” David said, face flushed from the energy he felt and the heat of so many newsboys packed into one place. He said this staring up at Jack, who looked down at him and grinned.  
“There’s lots of us, and we ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he replied, looking at David, but addressing the crowd.

He felt his flush deepen, for whatever reason.

-

“-for these parts. Are you sure you have the right place?”

Jack Kelly started down the stairs to help a couple of fellas with their strike posters but was stopped and told to get down. He followed orders instinctively, because no newsie messed with hiding, before he spotted the actual threat. Snyder.

“Yes, I’m sure there is a Jack Kelly living here,” Snyder said, and Jack’s eyes widened. How did he find out the name he was going by? No matter, what was done was done and he got what he got. And what he had was that he got to get out of there.

Kloppman, the man running the place distracted Snyder and gave Jack a chance to escape, hiding behind some of the newsies who held up finished signs and asked the crooked Refuge runner to donate some money to the strike fund.

He headed out and back to walk around for a bit until he was sure the coast was clear and snuck back in. He thanked Kloppman and the boys, who sniggered over it, even if they knew it was deathly serious that Snyder had found where he lived. He thought the trail was cold for the time being, sure, but how long until he came back?

Jack wished he could chat about this with Davey. He always seemed to find a way to lift Jack’s spirits back up, which was surprising considering how realistic he was.

-

“Hey, Dave, your girlfriend was here earlier,” Sarah whispered to him in the kitchen after he finally pulled himself out of bed. David knitted his eyebrows together in confusion before she smiled playfully and said, “Jack?”  
“Ohh,” he said, before lightly hitting her shoulder. “He’s not my girlfriend, Sar.” She just hummed in response as he scrounged up some breakfast.

“What’d he want?” David asked, settling into one of the dining table chairs as Sarah smiled at him from near the stove. Her face fell into a slightly worried, slightly sad expression.  
“He was going on and on about Santa Fe. Do you think-” she said before pausing to consider her thoughts. “Does he mention anything about his parents?”  
“Last I heard, they were off in New Mexico, waiting for him.”  
“Hm. Okay,” she said, though Sarah didn’t seem satisfied. “I better head to work.”

She stepped out of the kitchen section to head to her room to grab her basket. As she was headed to the front door, David pulled her into a tight side hug.  
“Hey, Sar, you wanna come to the rally we’re holding in a couple of nights?” He asked as she slipped away from his grasp.  
“Wouldn’t miss it, Dave.”

-

“I say, that what you say, is what I say!” Spot Colon announced, and after he and Jack spat and shook on it, the newsies erupted into cheers. Several minutes later, after Jack and Davey had tracked down Sarah, Davey left to hang with Les. He trusted the other boys with him, Davey said once, he just felt like maybe Les shouldn’t get into a fight with one of the other ten-year-olds, even if was just for fun, because Les ended up with a black eye that one time.

Jack settled into his spot with Sarah, who Davey had brought along with him. She gave Davey a huge hug and him a kiss on the cheek for finalizing the “peace treaty” as she had called it. The two boys had given a few of the newsies who were eyeing Sarah the stink-eye, and it worked if the fact that nobody had attempted to make a move. She was respectable, for god's sake.

Medda came out soon after the peace treaty finished up, to tremendous cheering. She had been worried about the number for days, but she seemed to feed off the attention. She genuinely liked helping the newsies, which was a rare trait of adults those days.

But, like her songs, there were high times and there were hard times. He just didn’t think the night would go downhill so fast!

David moved in slowly near the end of the song, whispering in his ear. Normally, the close proximity would make his heart thump, but instead, it was the fact that Snyder was there that sent his heart beating madly. He tried to make his escape, but there were just too many cops.

When he got carried off by the police, for the first time he saw Davey almost break. He tried to jump and grab Jack’s hand, but they got ripped apart. The last that Jack got to see of Davey that night looked dejected and heartbroken. If he wasn’t held up by police officers, Jack probably would’ve collapsed to the floor.

-

Denton had stopped by the morning of Jack’s court case, having got the address off of Sarah, comforting her brothers after the rally. He, David, and Les all headed to the court, where the rest of the newsies had bundled. They got there quicker due to proximity, as all the legal housing and the like were usually close to each other.

The newsies were fined five dollars each, which David knew wasn’t fair, but Denton paid anyways. The man was a godsend, and he wanted to swear on the Torah to repay him someday, but he was really quite busy.

And then Jack got hauled out in handcuffs. David wanted to sigh in relief that he was okay, but not just yet. The verdict was still out for the time being. Still, Jack gave him a little smile as he walked over to the podium, and his heart ached. He could barely bear to watch.

The newsies looked on as the judge laid out the case. As Snyder stepped forwards. As Jack real name was revealed to be Francis Sullivan (David swallowed thickly and tugged his sleeve down as far as it could go). As Jack’s sentence in the refuge was declared to be until he turned twenty-one. And as Jack was led away.

Les held tight onto David, David held on to Les and wrapped a shoulder around Spot, and the rest of the newsies huddled together, tight, family. Denton had to announce he was being moved to a new job. That the Sun didn’t print the story.

David crushed the article in his hands. Denton didn’t stop him.

“From now on, we trust no one but the newsies.”

-

Jack reclined in his chair, a neutral, indifferent expression painted on his face. Joe Pulitzer stood across from him.

“Are you bribin’ me, Joe?” Jack asked, a hidden fist clenched tight under the table.  
“No,” he replied, like a liar.

Joe offered to give Jack freedom, money, anything. And that’s when Jack let his smugness take over him. He was standing at this point, staring Joe straight in the face. “We must have you pretty scared, old man.”

And then he threatened the newsies. Davey.

He could live with the refuge, escaping again and again. The others? He couldn’t let them spend even an hour in that godforsaken place. So he struck up a deal with Pulitzer. Much to his disgust.

It was for the newsies. For New York. For David Jacobs.

-

“I don’t understand either, but you gotta get out of here!” Jack demanded. David had tried to help him escape. What was wrong? What was going on?  
He had to tell him. David had to tell Jack about the name.

  
“Jack, please, I just have to tell you-”  
“Go!”  
“I need to-”  
“Just get out of here! Please, Davey.”

David just stared at him for a moment. For a pause. He didn’t know what had gotten into Jack but something wasn’t right. He had to leave, there was no other choice, apparently.

-

“He’s dressed like a scabber!” was only one of the cries of outrage Jack heard when he stepped out in that damn suit. And weasel looked goddamn proud. Disgusting bastard.

He let the world and the voices wash off of him, staring at the ground. The one person he couldn’t ignore was Davey, who walked up all nice and peaceful as if he was just looking to talk. But he also looked pissed, and like Jack had just slapped him in the face, which, was fair if he thought about it. But it hurt, so he didn’t think about it.

“So, this is why you didn’t escape last night. You’re a liar! You lied about everything. You lied about your father being out west, ‘cause he’s not out west! You didn’t even tell me your real name!” Davey’s voice seemed to shake on the last line, and it took a hard breath to not cry right in his stupid face.

He pretended he was selfish like he couldn’t bear the thought of being a regular newsie again. Davey got more confident. On a normal day, he would’ve been so proud he would’ve felt like he could kiss him. Now he just wanted to run away.

In a final, hesitant, but expected move, Davey punched Jack in the face, or at least tried to. He yelled in stupid weasel's face. He deserved it.  
The comment that hurt the most as he was being escorted away was Les’s hopeful speculation that he was just spying. Someone believed in him, and there wasn’t a thing he could do.

-

David tried to channel out all the anger he felt towards Denton, towards Jack, towards every crooked adult in the whole of New York that refused to help him and the others and use it to destroy the Delancy’s, but he was still somewhat shrimpy. If there was one, maybe he could’ve done something, but two? No way.

Of course, Jack ‘Cowboy’ Kelly had to come save the day. When the Delancy’s went off running, David would be lying if he said he didn’t want to kiss Jack at that moment.

-

“It’s awfully nice of Mr. Pulitzer to let us use his press,” Denton joked, the spark of revolution in his eyes.  
“Yeah. I just hope,” Jack said, grinning, “I get to thank him for it someday.”

As they handed out the last of the papers that the rest of the newsies were getting, the two turned to the rest of the helpers in the basement. Sarah had her own stack of the banner to hand out on the way home, and he, Davey, and Sarah (once she was done) were gonna head in a cart, filled with the banner. Denton slipped out with his own couple copies, talking like he had a plan of his own, which he probably did.

“This is for kids in the streets shining shoes with none of their own, for the guys sweating blood in shops with no one looking their way,” Davey said, standing up and wiping ink from his hands away on his pants.  
“Something tells me that the tide is turning. About time.” Sarah hugged her brother and kissed Jack on the cheek before slipping out too.

That left the two boys alone for the first time in a couple hours. Jack knew Davey was straining to not say something, but he couldn't guess if it was about the fake betrayal he had pulled, the banner, or something else. Walking mouth was out of words, wasn’t that a sight to see.

“So, uh, Francis, huh?” He finally managed, and Jack shrugged.  
“Don't go callin’ me that, but yeah. My real name. Sorry I lied ta’ you.”  
“Its.. Fine. I just wish you had told me. It would've made this a lot easier.” Davey’s hand crept up to near his shoulder where he scrunched up some of his sleeve.

“Made what easier?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Davey hesitated, tilting his head a few degrees and looking past Jack.  
“I'll tell you after we win,” he finally said with a sigh, and Jack let it drop.

“Ready to see the mighty destroyed once and for all?” Jack said, picking up a couple of stacks of the banner. Davey grinned over at him, breaking the awkward tension, and grabbed the rest.  
“David and Goliath. And Jack.”  
“Oh, thank you for your generosity, tacking me on too.”  
“Shut up, Kelly.”

-

“I promised that if you defied me, I’d break you. I’ll keep that promise, boy. Now, I gave you a chance to be free. I don’t understand. Anyone who doesn’t act in their own self-interest is a fool!” Pulitzer looked like someone David didn’t like very much, even without the bias of the newsboy job or the strike. Nah, he looked like if he was just a bit younger, he’d be one of the rich boys who spat at his dad’s feet and fired him without care. That was probably why he spoke up with the sudden, “Then what does that make you?” Because really!

Jack grinned and led him closer, introducing him as the walking mouth. David hated the title, but it just sounded so endearing in Jack’s voice. “You talk about self-interest, but since the strike, your circulation has been down seventy percent. Every day you’re losing thousands of dollars just to beat us out of one lousy tenth of a cent. Why?”

Jack slunk forwards and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, eyeing Pulitzer up and down. It was pathetic how much the man in front of them hated them. “You see, it ain’t about the money, Dave. If Joe gives in to nobodies like us, it means we got the power. And he can’t do that, no matter what it costs. Am I right, Joe?” Jack said smugly, and god the smirk on his face made him realize that they had already won, no matter what Pulitzer tried to do.

That’s the power of the press, Joe.

-

“You won’t be seeing much of him anymore. Say ‘Goodbye, Warden.’” Denton grinned out at the crowd of working kids, who made gross faces and mockingly said “Goodbye, Warden” as the paddy wagon pulled Snyder away.

Snyder was never going to put him away in the Refuge ever again. They had won the strike. Crutchy was out. He would likely get the chance to head to Santa Fe soon. Life was going so good.

“Oh, Jack, you ought tah seen it! He comes stormin’ into the Refuge waving his walking stick like a sword and he’s leading in this army of lawyers and cops-” Crutchy said, waving his arm around in the air.  
“Wait, wait, who?” Jack interrupted, confused.  
“Well, y’know! Your friend, Teddy Roosevelt!”

Jack looked over to see a couple of boys watching some spot, so he turned to find Governor Roosevelt dancing in his eyes. Denton smiled like a wise sage and leaned in close so Jack could hear him speak. “The Governor’s very grateful that you brought this problem to his attention. I said you might need a lift somewhere. He’d be happy to oblige. Anywhere you want. And this time, you ride inside the carriage.”

He was so shocked, his mouth moved before his brain processed it. Course, he did only have half of one, so it wasn’t a surprise. “Can he take me to the train yards?”  
Denton’s expression was a mixture of confused and worried, but he nodded anyway. So, hey, why not take the ride?

He swung around the carriage and even got to shake Roosevelt’s hand before piling in. Someone threw him a bag of stuff, knowing Jack’s dumb dream to leave the city. Santa Fe, here he came.

While sitting away from the governor, Jack remembered his mark. He was finally going to where his dreams had always pointed him, he might as well make sure he knew the name of the soulmate out living in the city. Before he got a chance to check the name, which had been covered in a wrapping bandage practically since he was born, the governor spoke up.

“So, where are we taking you, Mr. Kelly?”  
“Trainyard?” Jack said, dropping his arm. Roosevelt raised an eyebrow.  
“Really? Are you looking to get out of here?”  
“Yeah. I got things to do.”  
“You’re correct, but I think you’re getting it wrong on where they need to be done.”

Jack froze and thought about it. He thought about it all the way back to the square, to the newsies.

-

Everything was back to normal, mostly. David was more confident and the newsies respected him. Denton had talked to him about maybe going into the writing field at some point in time. No newsie, or any orphan boy in that area for that matter, had to fear being sent to a fake sanctuary. Jack Kelly was leaving for Santa Fe and David never even got to say goodbye.

There was still carrying the banner to do, and David was first in line to buy the papes at the regular price. They had the power. “Hundred papes,” he said, grinning like a cat who got the canary. A few moments later, loud cheering erupted from the non-newsies. Mush, who was closer to the crowd spotted it first, his eyes going wide as he turned to David.

“Davey, it’s Jack! He’s back!”

David nearly left the papers he paid for right there, his mouth dropping as he scrambled to spot him. Finally, the carriage passed through the workers' crowd and out stepped Jack, who looked so pleased with himself. David was so scared he was going to lose him.

“Thanks for the advice governor. Like you said, I still got things to do. Besides, I’ve gots family here,” Jack said, stepping up and looking at David, and then the rest of the newsies. David felt the urge to check the name on his wrist but restrained himself.

Jack, whom was wearing a cowboy hat, took it off his hat and tossed it to an excited Les. Les forced Sarah to crouch down and perched it on her head, trying not to laugh the entire time. “Hey, Davey! How’s the headline today?” Jack crowed, David coming down to meet him. The newsies watched them intently. After a moment's pause, he cocked his head and declared, “Headlines don’t sell papes. Newsies sell papes.”  
“Come ‘ere, Davey.”

The two spat into their hands and shook on it, the newsies erupting into cheers. Then, Davey pulled him close and wrapped him in a hug. “I was so scared I was going to lose you,” he whispered.  
“Never. Carrying the banner,” Jack replied, squeezing tight.

-

“Mansion. Four children. Bonnie from Medda’s show. Actor.”

Jack rolled over, showing Davey the piece of paper, and he nodded. The two were together in the lodging house, where Davey’s mom was letting him stay. The rest of the fellas had either gone to bed or started playing poker, and neither had money to blow. So Davey taught him a game Sarah had been obsessed with when she was younger, that was supposed to predict the future.

Davey was sat up and curled into a ball, holding his legs to his chest on the bed. Since he was just visiting, he was sharing the bed with Jack. They’d done this before, but it was usually at the Jacob’s place, where they could both grab some pajamas. At the lodging house, they both just stripped down to underwear, except for the coverings on their wrists. Jack had lent Davey the wrapping bandages a few weeks beforehand, and after covering up the mark, he was more willing to shove his sleeves up and mess around. Plus, there was a mutual understanding they didn’t ask about “it” unless the other talked about it first.

“Are you gonna do me?” Jack held up the pencil and the newspaper from earlier they were writing the game on, but Davey just shrugged. He had been quiet since they got back from selling, and it was weirding him out. “Davey, c’mon. What’s up with you?”  
“What? Oh. Just thinking,” he replied. His eyes were drooping, though Jack couldn’t tell what of.

“Penny for your thoughts?”  
Davey blinked a few times before uncurling himself and laying down on the bed. Jack sighed, thinking he wasn’t going to get any response and flung an arm over his torso. A minute or two after the silence, Davey spoke up, staring at the ceiling. “Do you remember the night I tried to break you out of the refuge? Before you showed up as a two-day scab?”  
“‘Course I do. Was the night Joe threatened you and the rest of the newsies and I was backed inta’ a corner.”  
“Do you remember the conversation we had in the alley?”

Jack looked over at him, confused. “Barely. Why?”  
“I tried to tell you something. I didn’t get the chance, but I tried.” There was a long pause. “Hey, Jack?”  
“Yeah, Davey?”  
“I’m gonna tell you the thing now. If you kick me out, I swear I’m gonna punch you in the face tomorrow. Sorry in advance if that happens, by the way.”

Jack didn’t know what he was expecting Davey to do, but it certainly wasn’t him sitting back up, moving Jack’s hand to rest on his thigh, and hesitantly grab for the wrapping on his arm. “Davey, what’re you doin’?” Jack asked, propping himself up on the arm that wasn’t touching him. Davey just gave him a shaky smile.

He slowly pulled off the wrapping, stretched his wrist away from Jack, before turning it towards him, speaking as Jack read over it. “I didn’t get it for a long time because you’re going by Jack. It was Francis for most of my life. It changed a couple of weeks ago, at the end of the strike, when you came back.”

Jack reached out, grabbing his hand gently to get a better, closer look. Was this right? Was he reading this right? Oh god, maybe he couldn’t read anymore. “..Jack Kelly?” He finally read out, somewhat hesitantly. Davey just nodded. “Are you- are you jus’ messin’ with me?” He shook his head. “Ah.”

“I get if you’re weirded out, I just thought you should know that this is here,” Davey said quietly. The corners of Jack’s mouth just twitched up. “Are you kidding me? You’re one of the reasons I stayed.”

Davey looked over at Jack, who started and held eye contact. Davey’s eyes were so, so blue. “I felt something different about you from the moment I met you, David Jacobs. I finally remember where I know the name from, sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m not gonna kick ya out o’ here, Dave.” Davey just blinked at him before grinning brightly and looking around.

“Feel free to soak me if I’m crossing a line so fast, by the way. I understand if you need more time to think about this, I just-” One moment Davey was rambling in a whisper, the next, Jack just hurried up and pulled him into a kiss, or else it wouldn’t have happened that night.

The kiss was soft but forceful. Not necessarily passionate, but definitely something that could be forged into a passion. Davey pulled away first, with the light dancing in his eyes. “My name- it’s absolutely on your wrist, right? This isn’t just you faking it?”  
“Nah. High times, that’s what Medda was saying that one point. I ain’t faking it, Davey.”

He rolled his eyes, but Davey looked relieved nonetheless.“Should I start calling you something as well? Jacky?”  
Jack smiled softly at him. “Too fast, sorry. Maybe in the future. Can we sleep?”  
“Yeah, it’s your bed.”  
“Night then.” There was a long pause before Jack snorted just a little bit and laid back down. “Jack Jacobs. That’s worse than Francis Sullivan.”  
“We literally just kissed. Don’t diss my last name, Jack.”  
“I love your last name, Davey.”

Davey looked beat, more exhausted than he had just a few minutes ago. He slid down next to Jack, beaming without looking too bright. “Then take it sometime, won’t you?”  
“Maybe I will,” Jack replied, letting his eyes close. “Or you can just take Kelly.”  
“What if we just swap surnames?”  
“Don’t give me any ideas. We both know what happened the last time you did that.”

**Author's Note:**

> im at [this tumblr](http://www.don-lockwood.tumblr.com) if you want to talk to me


End file.
